


smell

by kristyn



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, College AU, F/M, Fluff, idk man, reflective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3246899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristyn/pseuds/kristyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tfw u friendfuck ur bff and cant stop smelling his shirt afterwards</p>
            </blockquote>





	smell

**Author's Note:**

> like lowkey based on a recent personal irl experience of mine??? yea ,,, lol

You shut the door behind you as you arrive back home. You’re getting ready for bed when you catch a whiff of him.

Shit. You’re still wearing his shirt.

You sniff again. Well, at least he doesn’t smell bad.

You sling the thin t-shirt off and slither into your comfy PJs. It’s your firm belief that having a friend you can have casual sex with is basically the best idea ever. It wasn’t even your idea, it was his.

Yeah, maybe you took it a bit too fast. Maybe you were a little too eager for it, and Dave is just way too hot to _not_ fuck. It’s a good thing the feeling was mutual, because it didn’t take long after settling in under his covers to get down to business.

Tonight was only round two of this apparent new lifestyle. After night one, you spent the night, and, boy, was that a mistake.

First off, Dave snores. Loudly. You barely got any sleep.

Second off, he kept cuddling you. Which was weird. Dave’s your bro, your pal. You’ve known each other since you were five; it would be weird to be in a relationship. Screwing is fine; screwing doesn’t need to have romance attached.

So with just his t-shirt on, you slipped your glasses on and announced your departure.

“Oh. Okay,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to decipher his nondescript body language and tone. Was he…. disappointed? You honestly couldn’t tell.

“Alright. So, yeah. I’m gonna go.”

“Yup. See you.”

You threw on your underwear and pants.

“I mean…” he said.

You straightened up immediately, meeting his gaze.

He flopped down on his pillow, reaching his hand up to scratch his head. “I mean, you’re totally welcome to stay again if you don’t wanna go out into the snow.”

You zipped up your coat. “I’m fine. I sorta just feel like sleeping in my own bed, y’know?”

“Oh, no, yeah, I totally get it. These, uh. The beds aren’t very big.”

“Right! Yeah! I was, like, falling off last night.” You chuckled a little and he smiled back. Fuck.

“But, yeah, feel free to leave, I’m not keepin’ you here.”

“Cool. Cool. Cool.”

You grabbed your bag.

 

Presently, you fold up his shirt to the best of your ability and shove it in your bag. You’ll see him tomorrow in class; afterward you can simply perform a covert return of the clothing piece in question.

You sleep soundly in your own bed, and you wake up the next morning to a text from Dave.

“tell english im sick, not comin to class”

“Okay! Feel better! Drink fluids.”

“thanks”

You frown and take the shirt from your bag. Whatever, you’ll see him again soon enough.

You catch another whiff.

You wonder why it is that people can have smells. And not just gross B.O. smell. You mean actual smells. Scents. They’re like… security. Familiarity. The more you know and like a person, the more distinct their smell, yeah? And Dave and you are super close. Best friends, of course!

How would you even describe the smell? You unfold the shirt and look at its entirety. It’s dark gray, with some fancy design and lettering.

“’[A man chooses](http://homuratrash.tumblr.com/post/109488578401/isnt-this-from-bioshock),’” you read aloud. The fuck does that mean. Some kind of quote, or band or something. Some dumb boy thing.

You throw it back on your bed and get ready for class. Bummer. You were sort of looking forward to being in a room full of people who don’t know that you and your best friend had sex. Well, technically, that will still happen. But it would have been ten times more fun with Dave.

 

During class, all you do is fuck around on your laptop. At one point, you pull up Google and type in the quote from the shirt. It brings you to the Bioshock wiki page.

You scoff, barely. “So he’s a gamer and he never told me.”

You pull out your phone to tease him, but you haven’t even started typing when you change your mind.

Class ends early so you head back to your dorm. Greeting you atop your pillow is that nerd shirt that somehow managed to capture more than a moment of your thoughts in the past almost-day it’s been in your possession.

Your roommate gone, you snatch it and hold it by your forefinger and thumb. You bring it to your nose. Sniff.

It still smells of him. It stirs all kinds of emotions that you don’t care to name. Unthinkingly, you strip, replacing your blouse with the ratty t-shirt.

Suddenly the smell is everywhere, wafting up, seeming to choke you as it replaces all the air in your lungs. You’re covered in Dave, in such a strange intimate way that somehow makes the sex you’ve had with him pale in comparison.

Why is it a big deal? You wore the shirt yesterday.

_You were in his room; his smell was everywhere._

Now, though.

Now, with something to compare it to.

Now, as a smell in a world of a whole other smell.

Was this how Dave felt about you last night? A new smell in a world full of this thin, tattered Bioshock tee? What do smells even mean in the grand scheme of fuck-all? Does the fact that you’re currently bunching the material up and stuffing it up your nostrils have any bearing on your feelings for Dave?

Since when do smells mean romance, like, honestly. You love the smell of your grandpa’s apple pie; that doesn’t mean it won’t be bitter and tasteless as always once it comes out of the oven.

Holy shit this stupid metaphor is swimming in your already intoxicated brain, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to explode. Is he ever gonna ask for this gross thing back, or what?

He smells like dryer sheets and gross deodorant. How come you can’t get enough of it?

You laugh at yourself. This is Dave Strider. You met him at age five, and have been his best friend since. Now you even attend the same college. Now you even fuck each other when you’re not busy.

There’s nothing stopping you from marching over to his dorm and returning the shirt. In fact, you should probably get some soup and pay him a visit anyway. He’s sick and he no longer has a roommate. Someone’s gotta take care of him.

But you lie in bed, wearing his shirt and drowning in his scent like some creepy pervert.

Whatever. You’ll do a load of laundry. Throw it in. The smell will be gone. And you can return it.

God, you hope you return it.


End file.
